


The Past is the Past, But Let's Make Our Own Future

by Teharissa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confessions, Cozy, Cute, Discussion of feelings, Feelings, Fluff, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Historical References, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love Confessions, M/M, Poland being fabulous, Referenced Angst, Relationship Advice, Serious Topics Mentioned, Vague, WWII Indirectly Mentioned, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, discussion of history, idk what this is, love advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 08:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teharissa/pseuds/Teharissa
Summary: “Right, so, I think you like him,” Feliks said, rather bluntly, “Seriously, I don’t mind, but if you’re going to talk nonstop about Honda next time we have a meeting, I’m going to go to war with you.”Alfred rolled his eyes.“Of course I like him, dumbass,” Alfred shot back, though perhaps the mildly affronted sound Feliks made should have warned him not to do it again, “The issue is that Ican’tlike him. Or love him, really, because I know I do. Love him, that is.”Poland offers him some advice, and America--you know, like an idiot--takes it.To be fair, somehow, it was sound advice. The only issue was the person saying it, and sometimes, even Poland knows what he's doing.Or in which, Poland is himself and also done with shit, America is a self-deprecating idiot in love, and Japan is cute and oblivious.





	The Past is the Past, But Let's Make Our Own Future

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hetalia, nor do I know the fuck I just wrote. But please, enjoy, for I think it's entertaining even if I have no idea how the idea even came to me.

“Seriously, just tell me you don’t think he’s adorable right now?”

Alfred spared a glance at Kiku—small, almost, drowning in the large armchair he’d chosen as his perch. He was cradling a teacup in one hand, while the other was holding his manga open in front of himself. Kiku’s dark eyes were shrouded by his hair, still messy from sleep, and of course, there was a slight purse to his lips, as if he were stuck deep in thought.

_Cute._

Kiku really was, wasn’t he? Alfred sighed in defeat, not bothering to even deny it. Kiku always was cute, from the way his nose would scrunch when trying something new, to the way he spoke—always soft, like each word meant something more. 

“Well yeah, of course, he is,” Alfred said, twisting in his seat. Feliks raised an eyebrow as if his point had been proven. It was hard to take seriously when he was also cradled quite comfortably on a couch with a sleeping Tolys, held within the unconscious Tolys’s loose embrace.

The four of them--thank god--weren’t the only ones in the room. Ludwig was quietly talking with a prim Roderich, both of them watching the Italian brothers with intrigue, who had found themselves napping on a loveseat together—Lovino’s feet were in Feliciano’s face, though they both looked peaceful enough that no one felt it fit to change it. Emil was knitting, quiet in the corner, undisturbed by those around him. Yao watched the fire, without speaking, and let Leon braid his hair. Arthur, meanwhile, was conversing with Kiku.

That was the problem, in and of itself, not that Arthur and Kiku were talking, but rather Kiku all by himself. He’d somehow become a problem, despite his polite mannerisms and Alfred wasn’t even sure _what_ the problem was, just that Kiku was at the center of it.

It wasn’t really fair, but Alfred didn’t have any control over it. His feelings were simply a jumbled mess.

Feliks coughed into his sleeve, and Alfred’s attention was brought back to him suddenly.

“Right, so, Alfie, I think you like him,” Feliks said, rather bluntly, “Seriously, I don’t mind, but if you’re going to talk nonstop about Honda next time, I’m going to go to war with you.”

Alfred rolled his eyes.

“Of course I like him, dumbass,” Alfred shot back, though perhaps the mildly affronted sound Feliks made should have warned him not to do it again, “The issue is that I _can’t_ like him. Or love him, really, because I know I do. Love him, that is.”

How could Alfred not? Kiku was everything Alfred wasn’t, in his quiet perfection. Everything about him was something more, everything was something that begged for his attention. Even now, it was impossible not to stare, not to admire the way the fireplace’s light flickered to the far reaches of Kiku’s glimmering eyes, casting light within them, and their fullness. He was a divine beauty sent from heaven, and Alfred was the poor fool who’d fallen in love.

Feliks scoffed again.

“You were talking out loud. I didn’t know you of all people could speak such poetry,” Feliks muttered, “Seriously, I get him being kinda cute, I guess, but I don’t see where you’re coming from.”

“You’re just blind,” Alfred retorted without a moment’s hesitation, “Blind and caught up in your egocentricity.”

“Whatever you say,” Feliks said, “I’m more concerned with why you think you can’t love him. Because there is nothing stopping you—I mean, it’s clear it’s too late anyway. But what I mean is...he loves you back. So what’s stopping you?”

Alfred bit his lip. It wasn’t an easy question. Anything but. It brought back memories—flashes of a limp bloodied hand, pale in its fragility, it brought back reminders of spit words of hatred, and eyes full of accusation.

“What else?” Alfred eventually said, and his voice was bitter, “History. I can’t. Not after what he did. Not after what I did.”

Not now. Times had changed, and to see Kiku now—full in his health—made Alfred’s heart beat with something more. He had fallen, fallen deep within his heart with no escape, no light to shine a way out. Kiku was the light—Kiku was his best friend. He was in love with his best friend, and Alfred couldn’t be happier. Why ruin it?

Why push for something more? Why?

Relationships could be corrupted, easily. Love could be corrupted. To even just be Kiku’s friend, his _best_ friend, after it all felt like some sort of blessing that he didn’t deserve. He didn’t deserve anything after that, not after everything he'd done.

Feliks looked away for a minute, his eyes glistening with something untold. For a moment he looked at Tolys’s arms around him.

“Look, Alfred,” Feliks said, “You’re young. You don’t get it yet. But that history doesn’t define you. It doesn’t define your feelings. And it most certainly can’t change anything. If you want Japan, go and get him. Don’t let your history hold you back.”

Alfred shook his head.

“No. This is enough. I can’t—“

“You don’t think you deserve more. Not with him.”

Alfred paused. Looked away.

Of course, Feliks called him out on it.

“Bullshit.”

Alfred didn’t respond.

“Seriously, bullshit. We all have done shitty things, okay? We’re not like humans, we don’t get a choice, we all have done some fucked up shit,” Feliks said, his voice hard and unyielding, “And trust me when I say what you have with Japan, it isn’t unsalvageable. Anything but, considering your current relationship.”

“I hurt him so much—”

“So what? Don’t forget what he did first. You’ve both forgiven each other. You’ve both moved on. What’s done is done, and you know how it is. You at least don’t have thousands of years of mistakes with him. You’re not France and England, who have too much damage to ever get to be together again. You’re not me and Liet, who like, had to deal with so much baggage when we got back together. You’re different. You should just fucking ask him out because god knows he wants you to.”

Feliks sighed as if it was a tiring subject before he spoke again.

“I’m not trying to trivialize your problems, okay? I get it. I get where you’re coming from. I just want you to understand that you shouldn’t let the past get in the way of this. You love him. And—in the end, isn’t that all that matters?”

Alfred worried at his lip—he was sure they were chapped, and it was an easier distraction then looking at Feliks again. He was only thankful they were somewhat quiet, despite Feliks’s harsh words, because he didn’t need every other nation in the room to hear their conversation. And besides--it was rare that any of them could be within the same quarters like this, all without the argument or chaos. The world meeting tomorrow was sure to brew such things, but for now, those who were staying in this lodge all remained calm and peaceful. Roderich had packed his things to return to him and Elizabeta’s room, and Yao’s hair braid was finished, but that was the only real change in the presence in the room.

Alfred looked back at Kiku again. At the soft smile that decorated his lips—and the fact that Kiku had been looking directly at him too. A soft flush of his skin, just a light pink that sprinkled over his porcelain skin, and Kiku looked away again hurriedly to talk to Arthur. The flustered look was too cute for Alfred to even bother tearing his gaze away.

Maybe Feliks’ words weren’t so wrong. There was something undeniably different about them, as countries. There was not a single person in this room that hadn’t hurt another so deeply that it left permanent scars. Mistakes, broken pasts, fractured histories—it was part of who they were.

But friendship—love—still grew among them. And was it right to deny love, when all was forgiven? Was it really right for Alfred to lament in his own self pity, when he knew how he felt, what Kiku meant to him?

Others had made it work. Others had moved past their history. Why couldn’t he?

“I get it,” Alfred said, “I understand what you’re trying to say. And in the end—you’re right. I love Kiku. I’m going to tell him.”

“Great,” Feliks laughed contentedly from beside him, “And I can _finally_ take my nap, you asshole.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. It was hard not to when Feliks was such a pill, and also when Feliks had brought up the topic in the first place. It was much like dealing with Francis, only, Alfred considered Feliks a friend he’d made on his terms, rather than an older brother figure.

“Right, right. Go to bed with your boyfriend, sleeping beauty.”

“I will. Get your man!” Feliks said, giggling slightly before he cuddled into the crook of Tolys’s neck. It was almost cute—the way they’d cuddled together, peaceful even after the past hundred-plus years. But it was a sight that had nothing on just Kiku’s general presence, so Alfred picked his way over there, confidence building.

“Hey, Keeks!” Alfred laughed as he plopped on the arm of Kiku’s chair, yet still leaving space next to him. He loved Kiku—he really did, and he wanted to hug him and kiss him and snuggle and just be close, but Kiku was specific about touch. And it was something Alfred could respect—he’d ask for permission if this all went according to plan.

“Hello, Alfred-san,” Kiku said warmly, his face still dusted in slight pink. His manga had been put to the side so that he’d simply been cradling tea while talking with Arthur.

If Kiku returned his feelings, as Feliks said he did, Alfred would be the luckiest nation in the world. Because despite the tense political climate and issues pervading him right now, at least Kiku would be with him.

At least Kiku would have forgiven him.

Alfred wouldn’t be deserving of his love, but by god, Alfred couldn’t stop the next words from coming out of his mouth.

“So, I know this is kind of sudden, but like, I really lo—like you and wanted to know if you’d be okay getting coffee or having dinner or something later tonight maybe?”

That could have gone smoother. Alfred really should have prepared what he was going to say, he should have given himself time to prepare, he shouldn’t have tried to express his love to the nation he utterly _broke_ in such a chaotic manner.

Kiku had a hand covering his mouth, and he seemed somewhat shivery. In a good way? Alfred hoped it was in a good way. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he registered Arthur’s snicker and quiet choice to leave the situation. He kept every eye on Kiku, not even bothering to give his brother a farewell. Arthur was undeserving of that, and insignificant in the face of his confession.

“I, uh,” Kiku blinked, “Hai. I mean, I would not be opposed to getting dinner with you, or something of the sort, and I would quite enjoy it and...please shut me up…”

He looked quite embarrassed like that, his eyes focused firmly on the ground instead of at Alfred, and his ears tinted that same pink that complimented his skin so well. And Alfred—well.

He couldn’t stop the grin that grew on his face, nor the way his heart seemed to beam, to spark and light within his chest. It was without thought and solely motivated by this emotion that he lunged forward, pulling Kiku into a hug—a hug that Kiku seemed to relax into after a second, despite the obvious touch and the lack of space on the armchair with them both. Alfred couldn't contain his words, couldn't contain the bursting his heart had to be doing in his chest.

“Really? Dude, that’s great, I was totally expecting you to say no!”

“I don’t think I _could_ say no,” Kiku said, quietly, “I like you. A lot. I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

Alfred shook his head almost in shock, pulling away from Kiku just slightly to look at in inquisitively.

"How? You're everything. And I'm—“

"Perfect," Kiku interrupted, smiling shyly, "You're absolutely perfect."

Kiku thought he was perfect. Alfred swallowed—not sure why, but feeling something soft stir in him. His eyes flit to Kiku's lips.

"Keeks," Alfred's voice felt weak, almost unnaturally so, "I know this is sudden and we just confessed, but could I kiss you?"

Kiku nodded—hesitant, embarrassed, but more than willing. He leaned forward, eyes fluttering closed, and Alfred took a second—only a second—to enjoy the view before leaning in himself. They bumped noses—a fact that Alfred was quick to laugh at, despite Kiku's flush—and Alfred twisted his head so that it wouldn't happen again.

When their lips met, tender and soft, Alfred thought maybe that Feliks was right, and maybe, the past should just stay in the past.

Alfred had never thought he’d be allowed to feel this way about Kiku—that Kiku would be allowed to feel this way about him, not after everything, but somehow, they did. They liked each other, and it felt so good and pure, despite it all. Alfred loved everything about him—and someday, if the world granted them this, Alfred would tell Kiku exactly how much later. He’d tell him how much he loved him. 

But for now, this was enough. More than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, don't question me, lol. Okay, some ideas of the setting, since that might confuse some people. There was a world meeting in Switzerland during the Winter, and one of the countries (coughcough it was Hungary coughcough) rented out this like cool cabin with a bunch of rooms, that's kind of cozy for some of the days around the meeting itself, and basically invited any countries who wanted to come to stay there with them. And since, you know, free lodgings, a bunch of them came, so they've been hanging out and stuff. And during lazy days like this one, some countries are outside messing around, and others are just lounging around, most of which I mentioned at least once.
> 
> Also, yes, Emil is there. Yes, he's knitting. Want to know why this child is there? Because he didn't want to stay with the rest of the Nordics since Norway was being particularly annoying. So he was like fuck this I'm a grown-up and decided to stay with some of the others. He regrets it later because Prussia walks around naked on the third day, there's a full-blown catfight between England and China over the kitchen, and he walks in on Poland and Lithuania (who are iN HIS ROOM WHY ARE THEY IN HIS ROOM?). He decides it's easier to handle the rest of the Nordics, who at least he knows what to expect from.
> 
> I should just write Iceland's adventures during this little vacation, XD, because he witnesses a lot and I'm pretty sure he's traumatized.


End file.
